Nathanael said to him, “Can anything good come out of
Nazareth?” Philip said to him, “Come and see.” (John 1:46)
What’s your call story?
Do you ever think about it? I’m not talking about a call to join a monastery or
go off to serve starving children in Swaziland (are they starving in Swaziland?
I wouldn’t know) or to take a new job or adopt a Ukrainian orphan. No. Before
we can be called to any of that stuff we first have to be called to faith.
I guess what I’m asking
is, when was the moment when you first realized you really were a Christian?
Not just someone who went to your parents’ church or adapted to the culture of
Western society, but a real honest-to-Jesus believing Christian.
You don’t know? Me
neither. Sometimes it’s just something that happens to you when you don’t try
to think about it. Martin Luther said in the Small Catechism that he
couldn’t believe in Jesus Christ or come to him through his own logic, but the
Holy Spirit called him—as she calls us all—through the gospel.[i]
I’m just now re-reading
the late Rachel Held Evans’ touching and beautifully written memoir of faith
called Searching for Sunday[ii]. I’m on the chapter in
which twenty-year-old Rachel, an English major at Bryan College in Tennessee,
starts to question everything she’s been taught in Sunday school. I’m certainly
glad she became so skeptical of the dogma of her evangelical upbringing,
because, had she not, the world would never have the thoughtful and beautiful
meditations on faith found in her books. Likewise, dear old C.S. Lewis, creator
of the Chronicles of Narnia, considered the rite of Confirmation his
graduation from church and himself an atheist for years before returning,
“kicking and screaming” as he said, to the Christian faith. Some of us, like
Paul said to the Philippians, work out our salvation with fear and trembling[iii]. Of course, not every
faith story requires a detour through apostacy, but I strongly doubt any
authentic faith comes from floating down a smooth stream of thought on a rubber
raft of unquestioning acquiescence.
True adult faith demands
questioning.
Both the gospel (John
1:43-51) and the Hebrew Scriptures (1 Samuel 3:1-20) lesson for Epiphany 3,
Year B in the Revised Common Lectionary tell skeptical call stories. In the
gospel, Philip tells his buddy Nathaniel that he’d found the guy Moses and the
prophets had spoken about, and it turns out it’s Jesus of Nazareth. Nathaniel
isn’t buying it. This guy knows his scriptures, and he knows there’s nothing
written there about a Messiah coming from a hick place like Nazareth. Besides,
Nazareth is kind of the armpit of Galilee—nothing good comes from there. But
Philip says to him, “Come and see,” and Nathaniel is open-minded enough to go
along. Of course, he’s going to question Jesus when Jesus claims to know
something about him. Nobody understands what that fig tree thing was about,
except, apparently, Nathaniel.
In the story in 1 Samuel,
the writer tells us that disembodied spirit voices and divine visions weren’t
exactly everyday occurrences. When something supernatural happens, both Eli and
Samual misinterpret it. Samuel thinks he’s being called by Eli, and Eli
probably thinks the kid is hearing things in his sleep. The encounter with God
comes only after some doubt and confusion. Understanding may take a while, and
sometimes we have to ask lots of questions.
Audrey West, Associate
Professor of New Testament at the Lutheran School of Theology in Chicago, notes
in her essay on the Working Preacher website that John’s gospel contains
several instances of people questioning Jesus. Look at Nicodemus (“What do you
mean by ‘born from above?’”) or the Samaritan woman at the well (“So does God
want us to worship on Mt. Gerizim or Mt. Zion?”). Both these folks have some
theological issues they want to take up with Jesus but find themselves
dumbfounded by his mind-blowing answers. Even Pontius Pilate has an existential
question to put to the Lord (“What is truth?”), and, of course, there’s “Doubting
Thomas” who, like Nathaniel, isn’t about to swallow something whole on somebody
else’s say-so alone. True belief, it seems, emerges from skepticism, doubt, and
questioning.
So what kind of questions
should we be asking ourselves? I’d say we might want to go back to some basic
stuff like:
·
What is religion?
·
Why is religion important?
·
What is the point of the stories we tell?
·
What do these stories mean to me?
·
How am I different because I embrace these
stories?
·
What does it mean to the world that I am a
Christian?
·
Who is Jesus to me?
·
How is Jesus revealed through me?
(We can leave the tougher
questions like “How did the Bible come to be written?” “What cultural
expressions shaped early Christian doctrine?” and “If God loves us so much, why
do we suffer?” for a later time.)
As Americans we are often,
I think, politely silent on matters of faith. I think we need to learn to
question our faith and to have meaningful conversations about the
questions we ask ourselves. We won’t grow or mature by passivity. That will
lead us only to childish superstition, unbelief, or dogmatism—none of which are
particularly attractive.
Perhaps a reason churchgoing
in America is on the decline is because we haven’t challenged ourselves enough.
We know God loves us just as we are, but if we have the opportunity to dig a little
deeper, shouldn’t we take it?
A blessed Epiphany, my friend. Keep being curious.
[i]
That’s Luther’s explanation to Article 3 of the Apostles Creed in case you were
wondering.
[ii] Evans,
Rachel Held, Searching for Sunday (Thomas Nelson: 2015). Rachel was a
journalist and wonderful Christan writer who passed away tragically from
medical complications in 2019. She was only 38 years old.
[iii]
Philippians 2:12
No comments:
Post a Comment